


flexibility, love, and trust

by teacupfulofbrains



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, based on the INCREDIBLE prinxiety fusion design by @breloomings, fusion fic!!!, it's soft gay fluff, logan and patton make a brief cameo at the end, roman and virgil watch steven universe and then they fuse, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-24 15:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15633336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupfulofbrains/pseuds/teacupfulofbrains
Summary: Virgil is apprehensive about a lot of things, especially new things, but his boyfriend makes it better. When Roman suggests they dance, Virgil is hesitant, but he agrees to make Roman happy. Then something new and strange and wonderful happens, and Virgil can't really say he hates this new thing as much as he should(OR: a fic about the first time Roman and Virgil fuse, inspired by the absolutely amazing artwork of @breloomings)





	flexibility, love, and trust

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAH DANIEL IT'S FINALLY HERE I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!!! 
> 
> the fusion virom belongs to the AMAZING AND STELLAR AND PERFECT [@breloomings](https://breloomings.tumblr.com) !!!!! 
> 
> tw: anxiety (because virgil) but nothing too bad!!

Really, Virgil thinks, if you have to assign the blame (and Virgil absolutely does), the entire fiasco is Roman’s fault.

They’ve been mainlining _Steven Universe_ for a week to prepare themselves for the new episodes, but Roman seems distracted. He’s trying not to be, but Virgil is perceptive and he’s pretty sure _Roman_ and  _subtlety_ have never actually met. “Roman, are you okay?”

Roman looks guilty. “Yes! Of course! Why, are you concerned that I’m not?”

Virgil is unimpressed. “You seem kinda uncomfortable, Ro. Do you need me to move?”

It’s a fair question; they’re sitting together on the couch. They’d started off next to each other, thighs barely brushing, but Roman is touchy and Virgil is needy and they tend to gravitate. Case in point: Roman’s legs are a warm, comforting weight on Virgil’s lap, Virgil’s legs propped on the coffee table, Virgil’s head tucked into the curve of Roman’s shoulder. They each have an arm along the back of the couch, overlapping with each other, and Roman’s head tipped over to rest on Virgil’s at some point.

Roman shakes his head. “No, I’m okay. Promise. It’s just –”

He cuts himself off, and Virgil pauses the episode with a snap of his fingers. “Roman.”

“Virgil, it’s nothing. I promise.”

Virgil is comfortable, but he knows that they need to talk about this, so he tips his head up and nuzzles his nose into Roman’s jaw. It tickles Roman, who moves, and Virgil lifts his head to meet Roman’s eyes. He starts, halting and hesitant, but knowing that he needs to figure this out. “You – Roman, if you – if I make you uncomfortable, you’re allowed to tell –

Roman cuts him off. “God, Virgil, _no_ , it’s nothing like that at all!” He presses his free hand against Virgil’s cheek, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together. “Virgil, I – if anything, I’m more comfortable with you than I ever was without you.” Virgil lets himself relax into Roman’s touch, and Roman kisses him – once, soft and chaste but reassuring.

“Y-yeah. I – uh – m-me too,” he stammers. “But there’s still something bothering you, isn’t there?”

Roman sighs, smiling. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I? Not that I want to!” he hurries. Virgil bumps their noses together to reassure him. “I just – I – just watch this, Panic at the Everywhere.” He snaps his fingers and the TV screen turns staticky for a moment before it shifts. It shows a scene from an episode they’ve already seen: Steven and Connie dancing around on the beach, just prior to when they fuse for the first time. They’re laughing and happy and open with each other. 

“Okay? Princey, I’m confused, we already saw that.” 

Roman blushes, cheeks tinting a pretty pink. “I want to _do_ that. I want to dance with you.” 

Virgil can feel his entire body stiffening up. “You – I – Ro, I can’t dance for _shit_.” 

Roman runs his thumb back and forth over Virgil’s cheekbone in exactly the right way to make his anxiety lessen. “I know you don’t think you can dance, but it’s easy! And I’m not going to laugh at you or judge you or love you any less, I promise. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, not if you don’t want it to be, but I – I want to dance with you.” 

Virgil really doesn’t want to dance. He’s disproportionate compared to the rest of the sides – taller than them, limbs a little too long, constantly folding himself up and tripping over nothing and curling in on himself. He’s not very coordinated, and he wouldn’t know where to start. But clearly this means a lot to Roman, and if it means a lot to Roman, Virgil can probably handle a little bit of dancing.   
  
“Okay.” 

“Really?” Roman’s eyes are shining, and Virgil _swears_ there are literal stars. “You – really?”

“I mean, I’m not promising anything great, but like, it’s important to you. And – and you’re important to me, or whatever, so, yeah.” He’s positive that his blush far outstrips Roman’s right now, but then Roman is leaning forward and kissing him and he finds he doesn’t care very much.

They sink out of the living room, reappearing in Roman’s bedroom, and Roman bounces up and down, grinning. “This is gonna be so much fun!” He snaps his fingers, and his bedroom dissolves around them. Virgil closes his eyes against the blinding white glare, and when he opens again, they’re standing in a dance studio. The floors are smooth, polished wood, and one of the walls is nothing but mirrors. There’s a railing running around the room, and Roman grips it with one hand as he stretches. 

Virgil fidgets awkwardly as Roman drops effortlessly into a full split. “Ro, I – I’m not that flexible, I don’t – I don’t know if I can do this.” Roman pushes himself to his feet and takes Virgil’s hands in his own.

“Virgil, relax!” he laughs. “This isn’t _Dancing with the Stars_! We can just do whatever. Here, let me just do this.” He snaps his fingers and a soft, slow piano waltz begins to play. Roman bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, shifting his hands so that his palms are pressed against Virgil’s.

“Can I lead?”

“I’m sure as hell not gonna do it,” Virgil smirks. Roman moves one hand to Virgil’s waist, guiding Virgil’s newly-freed hand to his shoulder. He laces their fingers together and carefully nudges his socked foot against Virgil’s. 

“So, take a step backward for me?” Virgil does, and Roman steps forward with him. “Okay, now the other foot? Yes, yes, _exactly_ like that, you’re doing _so well_ for me, love.” Virgil was red before, but he’s somehow blushing _even deeper_ ; Roman knows what being praised does to him, especially when Roman does the praising. 

They’re waltzing around the tiny studio, but it feels weird – stilted, almost. Forced. Virgil is moving in time with the music, and he’s managing to let Roman twirl him and guide him without tripping over his own two feet, but it isn’t as much fun for him as it seems to be for Roman. 

Luckily, what Roman lacks in subtlety he more than makes up for in uncanny ability to read Virgil like a book. “You aren’t enjoying this.” It’s not a question, and it’s not judgmental either. It’s carefully devoid of any obvious emotion. 

“Not completely true,” Virgil says, because Roman is wilting and he hates that look. “Dancing was a good idea. I’m having fun, really. Just . . . not this style of dancing. I’m not really a ballroom kinda guy.” 

“No, you aren’t, Storm Cloud,” Roman says, and he completes the spin they’re in and then stops the music. He pulls Virgil in for a sweet kiss, cupping his face and sliding his fingers into Virgil’s hair while he smooths his thumbs across his cheekbones. “I’m sorry. I want you to enjoy this. Why don’t you pick the music?”

Virgil is tempted to rickroll Roman, or play _Despacito_ , or just blast MCR, but he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he thinks of something that they’ll both like, something that’s danceable but not too fast. He’s almost embarrassed that it takes him so long to think of the right choice.

He snaps his fingers, and the _Love, Simon_ soundtrack begins to play. “Gay,” Roman snorts.

“Princey, I’m picking music so that I can dance with my boyfriend, who I love more than I love myself,” Virgil deadpans. “I’m literally the gayest you can get.”

Roman kisses his forehead and then peels away, dropping into some kind of elaborate dance routine. Virgil bops his head back and forth to the music, slowly bringing the rest of his body in on the act one limb at a time. He’s nowhere near as elegant as Roman, but Roman is watching him with stars in his eyes. 

They’re dancing on their own, but they’re dancing around each other. Roman is all sure, precise steps, a stark contrast to Virgil’s awkward, hesitant shuffles, but they’re laughing. That’s the beauty of their relationship, Virgil thinks; they do things together, but they also do their own thing in the context of each other. He loves Roman for that.

Inevitably, of course, it gets messed up, but at least Virgil can blame his boyfriend this time.

Roman misses one of his landings when he jumps. Which is fine, normally, except that the floor is hardwood and Roman is wearing socks. His foot flies out from under him and he slips, heading straight for the ground. Virgil hears the resounding, echoing crack of Roman’s head on the unforgiving floor in his mind’s ear and he lunges forward, flinging his arms around Roman’s waist. Roman’s arms fly around his neck instantly. 

They both stand there for a moment, staring at each other, and then Roman laughs, breathless.

“If you wanted to dip me, Virgil, all you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up,” Virgil laughs, and then they’re both laughing, foreheads pressing together as they lean closer, closer, closer, and Virgil can feel his mind going fuzzy with joy, and Roman’s pretty much glowing with happiness, and suddenly Virgil’s whole body is fuzzy and Roman’s whole body is glowing and they’re folding impossibly close together and then –

And then –

And then – 

And then they sit up, and their head _hurts_ , what hit them? They lift a hand, and oh, that’s new. When did they paint their – what are their _shoes_ , what – their – _their?_ – wha –

They press their hands to their face, scrambling shakily to their feet – and their coordination is _terrible,_ holy fuck – staring into the mirrored wall. They take in the crown hovering about their head, black but studded with colorful jewels, the elegant mess of a jacket they’re wearing (some kind of long trenchcoat-y thing that works, somehow?), their high high combat boots with intricate laces, and the thundercloud makeup carefully, artistically smeared beneath their eyes.

_What is –_

_Who are –_

_Virgil???_  
  
**_R o m a n ? !_ **

Suddenly they glow, collapsing in on themselves like one of those stars Logan is always rambling about, and then –

And then –

And then –

And then Virgil sits bolt upright, gasping, clinging to his chest, almost tearing his hoodie in his urge to breathe. There’s a hand on his shoulder, tapping out the breathing rhythm he needs, but he’s not thinking about that, turning around and grabbing at Roman, throwing himself into Roman’s lap and pushing his face into Roman’s shoulder.

For a few moments, neither of them move. Virgil shakes, wrapping the fabric of Roman’s shirt in his fists and gripping so tightly he’s surprised it doesn’t tear. “I – I’m so – Ro, wha – what was that?”

“Virgil,” Roman gasps, and Virgil feels him dropping frantic kisses into his hair. “Virgil, Virgil, oh my God, are you alright?” Virgil nods against his shoulder, and Roman stops kissing his head to press his face into his hair. “Vee, what was – did we – was that –” 

“Roman, are you okay?!” Virgil demands. “I lost you! What did – where did – _how_ did – what?”  
  
“Virgil,” and Roman is starry-eyed now. “I think we just fused.” 

“ _What?!_ ” 

“I – I don’t know how but – but I think we did!”

“What, like from _Steven Universe_ or some shit?”  
  
“Yeah, exactly! That – that was such a _feeling_ , Virgil!”

“That’s one way of putting it, yeah.”

“It was amazing! It was indescribable! It was – it – it was –”

“Terrifying?” Virgil _feels_ Roman deflate around him, arms tightening slightly, defensively, like he’d be hugging himself if it wasn’t for Virgil in his lap.   
  
“Nice, actually,” Roman mumbles. “I – I liked it. I liked being so close to you. I understood you better in that one moment than I ever had before. But if you really hated it –”

“Hey, hey, I didn’t say that. It was scary, and really jarring, but – I –”

Virgil thinks back to how it felt to be so completely in tune with Roman. He thinks about what it felt like to feel Roman’s confidence and calm and love flooding through him like a rush of electricity, filling him up and invigorating him more than he thought was possible. “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again, if it was intentional.” 

“Oh, Virgil, _thank you_ ,”

“Did you know we could do that?”  
  
“We’re imaginary, Roman. We can do whatever we want.”

Virgil pulls Roman to his feet, and they begin to dance around each other again. Virgil spins Roman, dips him on purpose this time, leans in, and his lips have just barely brushed Roman’s when they’re glowing and laughing and pulling together –

They take the time to properly examine their appearance this time. The nail polish and makeup are Virgil’s colors and style, but the designs are clearly Roman’s doing. Their coat is long and elegant, with an intricate castle design on the back, and it flares dramatically around their legs when they twirl. The crown hovers the same four inches above their head no matter what, even when they move their head somewhat erratically.

_Should we go show Patton and Logan who we are?_

_Is there any reason not to?_

_What if they don’t like –_

_Who we – who I am is fucking awesome, and they’ll understand that! But no pressure . . ._

_No . . . no, let’s do it._

_God, I love you._

_I love you, too._

They sink out of Roman’s room and into the common room, where Logan and Patton are sitting together on the couch. Neither Patton nor Logan sees them at first, and after only a moment’s hesitation, they clear their throat. Patton turns and immediately falls of the sofa, squealing in excitement, starry-eyed. Logan stares at them, mouth open, as Patton scrambles to his feet and vaults over the sofa to stand in front of them and fanboy.

“Oh, kiddos! That is you, right? Oh, you’re _beautiful_! That makeup is so fierce, _yas_ boy I _love_ it! And those nails! You _have_ to do mine some time! I love your little _crown_  and those boots are so cool! Spin around for me, let me see – _AAAAAAAAH THE COAT I LOVE IT!_ ”

“This is certainly a new development,” Logan muses. “Interesting, but by no means bad. What name would you prefer us to call you by?”

That’s a good question; they hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Vir –” they start, and then stop, because that’s only part of who they are. They try again. “Rom –” But that isn’t right either. Patton claps his hands together suddenly, gasping.

“Virom!”

They look down at their hands, at what they can see of their outfit – a perfect mishmash of both of them. “Yeah,” they say, and when they test out the name, it’s perfect. Leave it to Patton to make them feel comfortable in their own skin after knowing them for all of forty seven seconds.

“We’re Virom.” 

**Author's Note:**

> come and scream at me on tumblr!! // [@teacupfulofstarshine ](https://teacupfulofstarshine.tumblr.com)


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